What We Say in the Dark Ch. 07

"This is Madame Syn," Eve said.

Syn fixed Cassie with an appraising look, and then inclined her head. "Cassidy Hayes," she said, "We meet again."

Cassie gasped as she recognised Cynthia, now transformed through her attire, the soft lighting and her perfect makeup into a very different person to the one she had met in the exotic apparel store. Syn's gaze flicked away again, over Cassie's shoulder, as the barman set down a tall glass of red liquid. Syn picked it up and sipped it carefully.

"Virgin, not bloody. I'm at work," she said.

Syn indicated a vacant booth. "Shall we sit?"

Cassie's first instinct was to demur: she would finish her gin and leave. This was all too much; she should never have come here. However, Syn waited patiently, and eventually Cassie rose from her seat and followed Syn to the booth. Eve remained on her barstool, watching them leave.

Syn slid easily into the booth, placing her glass on the table and watching Cassie over folded hands. Cassie sat opposite, feeling suddenly clumsy and untidy. She couldn't even explain why she'd let this woman lead her over into the corner, into a secluded booth. Madame? What did that mean? Syn remained still and silent. It was obviously Cassie's turn to talk.

"You look very different," Cassie said, "I nearly didn't recognise you."

"Like I said, I'm at work."

Syn raised the glass of dark red liquid to her lips and took a sip.

"I wondered if you'd show up," Syn continued, "I did some asking around about you."

"You've been checking up on me?" Cassie asked.

"Nothing sinister. Just curiosity."

"How?"

"People. It's a small world."

Syn took another sip of the red drink.

"What have you heard?" Cassie asked the older woman.

Syn replaced the glass carefully and then paused for a moment, as if considering her words carefully.

"You work as a relationship counsellor, with an impressive degree in psychology that you barely use. You specialise in helping couples with their problems."

She paused again. Cassie's eyes were wide.

"I hear you engage in unprofessional behaviour."

The words cut deep into Cassie, delivered deadpan in an understated tone, but still barbed and deadly. Cassie felt the blood rushing to her cheeks, the surge of fight-or-flight.

"Look," she stammered, "I don't know what people have been telling you but...."

Syn laughed and Cassie reeled at the unexpected response from the imposing woman opposite her.

"Cassidy, that was a compliment."

Cassie gaped, her mouth dropping open. In response, Syn made an elegant gesture with her hand to take in the room.

"Tell me, what do you see here?"

Cassie frowned, struggling to follow the flow of this strange conversation.

"I don't know. People."

Syn nodded. "Yes. Happy people."

She took another sip of her drink and set it back down. When she spoke again, her posture was more relaxed, her tone more conversational.

"They're happy because they're doing something they love. Now, whether she's going out for a drink wearing a nice dress with latex panties underneath, or he's maybe dressed in a smart suit that hides his stockings, or," she said, pointing at the ceiling, "They're upstairs in one of the more private areas, bound to the Saint Andrews cross I have up there, being whipped with a crop, they all love doing it."

Syn looked at Cassie, but Cassie didn't speak.

"You're struggling with this aren't you?"

"Yes," Cassie breathed, "It's a lot to take in."

Syn reached over and patted Cassie's hand once, before picking up her drink again.

"Some of the people who come here, I've known them for years. Sometimes decades, back when my husband first opened this place. Of everyone here, you should know better than most that people often supress their feelings, live in denial. It can eat away at you. It doesn't matter whether you feel you're gay or straight, whether you decide you like to be whipped, or even just want to support a different football team, there are certain things that you feel you can never share with your friends and family, maybe not ever."

Syn's face grew solemn.

"That's why we started this place. We wanted to give people an option. And you, with your work, you're doing the same thing. You're providing hope. It's vital work."

Syn checked her watch, frowning.

"Time to get back upstairs," she muttered, "He should be done by now."

She stood, reaching over to shake Cassie's hand.

"You're welcome to stay, but I have someone to attend to. I hope you can understand?"

The question snapped Cassie out of her daze and she replied, "Of course. Thank you for the talk."

Syn laughed at that. "People don't often thank me for the talk," she said. "Usually quite the opposite."

"Really?"

"Cassidy, generally when the words come out of my mouth, the recipient is about to learn the true meaning of Christmas. Like my guest upstairs."

She turned and walked back across the floor to the door next to the bar. Cassie watched her leave, following the way her hips swayed in her close-fitting dress. Cassie wondered tentatively what Syn was doing upstairs, out of sight in the private area, who she was doing it to.

On the table was a piece of paper. It had a phone number and the words 'Coffee, any time' in elaborate handwriting.

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[Next chapter: Emboldened by her visit to the Lost and Found and her conversation with Madame Syn, Cassie begins the fight-back against her nemesis. Can she use her skills to bend her husband to her will and turn him away from Lily?

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